


The Flowers of his Love

by The_Unpublished_Author



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Unpublished_Author/pseuds/The_Unpublished_Author
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this story was a Victoria Holt novel, this is what would be written on the back cover:</p><p>“Fifteen years after conquering the Labyrinth Sarah is living her own life as a woman of Wales, her 16-year-old little brother Toby living under the same almost-leaking roof. Their father is in the midst of a divorce disagreement overseas, Sarah’s stepmother Karen is burning for love on some far island (and for some reason reveals this).<br/>Sarah’s life has not been free of misery, of pain or suffering though on the outer aspects of it she has always been secure. She has never stopped growing more wiser, more like herself and… to her great demise… older Nearing her thirties as a woman who has never been told by a man that she is loved (other than Toby or the man of her past, the darkly alluring Goblin King). The boys and men who she thought to have feelings for her kept on turning their backs on her,avoiding her even to the point of disappearing. Oh for bucks sake,even her prom date ditched her! But who knows what will happen, will someone truly have the courage to finally face her, will the mysteries in her past be revealed? Or perhaps there is a question that is even more enticing… Will this be the return of the Goblin King?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flowers of his Love

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned, the author likes to babble… and to speak of itself in third person pronouns:
> 
> It’s been a long while since I’ve written in English, before starting to think of this story I mean. This is the first fanfiction I’ve ever written, let alone let someone who is not me read, so please be kind. It’s not in accordance with anything but the movie, it’s the future that grew in my imagination for them. And on another matter; when speaking of the structure of this story, there are four types of writings you might find:
> 
> 1\. The first of them is a chapter of the story released in a chronological order, marked as chapter one and two and… you might know how to figure out the rest.  
> 2\. And when I feel pressured or puzzled by the main story, I might publish a bonus chapter bringing alive some of the happenings outside the main story. Thus’ being able to paint a picture that I couldn’t have otherwise, for it would have taken the focus of the main storyline.  
> 3\. Were such an emotion to stretch out further, or if I just felt like writing one, even Bonus stories could come into existence. Perhaps a story from the past?  
> 4\. And in between, to let you know I’m alive and thinking, writings with the title “Beware, the author likes to babble.” I mean, I don’t really babble since what I am saying is completely understandable. It’s just that I have a lot to say which inexcusably leads to me writing a lot.
> 
>  
> 
> Beware of the warnings:  
> If you’re looking for a “hi-bang-bang-uh-ah-squel-i-luv-u-4eva-sahra” type of story of 300 hundred or less words, just go to a porn site. You’re not going to find that here (perhaps a bonus story though?)  
> However, beware that some lemon tree sceneries might flash by as the story progresses. Some… piquant caber tossing might take place at one place or another (Haaah, caber tossing isn’t even Welsh). Who knows, we could even see a… bagpipe being… played (and Scottish again for some reason?!). And if this wasn’t clear enough already:  
> My honorable lasses and lads, be sure to lock your chastity belts, for there will be p… plausibly sexually suggestive content.  
>    
> Beware also of the distinction between the way “the babbles” and the actual story is written. Whereas “the babbles” are more of a way for the author (3rd person pronouns again?) to let off steam by writing something light and dramatic and open up the world behind the story a bit more (almost like a column maybe?), the story itself is not written as a joke. Sure, like in almost every good story, there is humor and lightness in it, but don’t expect it to be the same as my precious “babbles”.
> 
>  
> 
> But, with all of this done, I earnestly welcome you back into the world of the Labyrinth… Just my Labyrinth this time around.  
> Enjoy your stay! (Which isn’t forced this time around by the way, you’re free to leave or stay at your own will. So if the story is not to your liking, take the exit right in the upper corner. But if it is… You’re most welcome to stay as long as you like and I’ll thank you for that! Uh… Just perhaps try actually reading the story before that?).

### C o n t e n t s

###    
  


##### Prologue:

##### 

The hands of the clock keep turning. The times change and we change with them.  
  
  


##### Chapter One

##### 

The castle of unwashed cups and a stranger at the door.  
  
  


##### Chapter Two

##### 

The warmth of memories and The café of smoke and undead mannequins  
  
  


##### Chapter Three

##### 

A box of magical memories and The melody of times changing / long-hidden secrets  
  
  


##### Chapter Four

##### 

Prince in Pink and the flies beneath his feet  
  
  


##### Chapter Five

##### 

Whatever happens: Do Not Touch It – Sarah’s degree on Domestic sciences  
  
  


##### Chapter Six

##### 

The Storm has risen  
  
  


##### Bonus Story Cynta

##### 

The Waiter with observant eyes, obliging ears and a heart of his own – An evening in the café  


  
  


###    
  


  
  


  


## Prologue 

### The hands of the clock keep turning. The times change and we change with them.

  
  
There are moments when I still think of him. The glass-like bubbles tinted with the brightest rainbows flowing above the meadow by the river, filled with Toby’s laughter, reminded me of him for a moment. Brought back fading memories, that kept me awake long into the night. Whenever seeing a tall figure in a long coat, I woke up, waiting to see his unsettling smirk as he turned around for me and said words I couldn’t quite make out. Well, I couldn’t have anyways for I realized all too soon it wasn’t him, over and over again. Daydreaming, I was only daydreaming.  
  
I couldn’t help seeing him everywhere, at the register of a run-down bookstore, as my strict inventive English teacher, as a man walking past me in the rain – imagine, even as a boy in my senior prom. I had thought for a second that it was him, but I didn’t feel all too well that night, it could have been food poisoning or something alike. It had been more than a decade that I saw him outside my dreams or memories… I’d seen dreams of him in many nights and I couldn’t quite tell when they started, I only knew that they made me not want to wake up. But I did, feeling reluctant, but satisfied. The memories I speak of took their unearthly, unforgettable place almost exactly fifteen years ago, back when I was still living on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, under the roof of the Williams household and not in my glorious bachelor’s Pad in the moors of south-east Wales. Toby, my frivolous little brother, had been living with me for four months now.  
  
He had transferred overseas – it might have had something to do with our father being discovered for having an affair for years, and Karen walking out on him and a younger one walking in right after. Or it could have been the scandal of him supposedly seducing his father’s newest conquest before she could even step her foot in. The girls in his old high school had growled with disappointment hearing the news, but gotten even more excited over their princes dark power. The whole thing had gone out of hand, but he had born it with usual seemingly-innocent dignity (or arrogance). But I caught him laughing into his cup of hot chocolate once in a while, when I made the usual perambulation between the tea spot and my desk.  
  
I think he has grown happier than before, Toby I mean, his colors had changed when his home split into two. I could hear it in his voice, already changing its tone between that of a child and that of a grown man, over the phone. He used to call me every day, and one time I could hear our father explode in to swears over the phone bill. Toby had called me afterwards laughing about it, both of us laughing. When he first came here, I couldn’t recognize him standing in the noisy crowd at the airport, even when I knew it was him without even looking. A flush of relief had taken over me when he jolted towards me smiling the way he did when he was just five years old, still tugging my sleeve asking me to play with him and Sir Lancelot. He had hugged with me with so much misery and joy it made my chest ache, sorry I couldn’t have been there with him and thankfulness for the fact he was finally here.  
  
Over the time he’s spent here, piling up our peerless collection of teacups and throwing his clothes all over the place – literally all over, I found his shirt on the kitchen lamp one morning – he has healed a bit. Been like he once was, without worries and kind-hearted. Well, his only worries were worries of my well-being. Sarah, have you eaten enough? Do you have anything but beetroots and mustard in your fridge? Are you sure you’re not getting a cold. Be home by ten! What is wrong with you, seriously, you live like a group of 16-year-old beasts would!  
  
He told dad he came here because he wanted to pursue a future in Oxford, but really he just works at the café in town, enjoying his new international fan-club. And blows soap bubbles from his window, he’s always loved them from some reason, and keeps a respectable row of small bottles filled with them in the bathroom cabinet. He watches the bubbles stolen by the wind float to the sky, far above the green clouds of heather and couch grass. _Elymyns Repens._  
  
  
  
I never thought the future would be like this.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Chapter One  


### The castle of unwashed cups and a stranger at the door.

  


Sarah, still walking around in her navy blue night gown (which could have been mistaken for an overly grown T-shirt) thought of her life, what it had been like ever since conquering the all-too living labyrinth leading to the Goblin Castle. She thought how the journey had changed her, how the Sarah who had walked in never got out quite the same, as she sneaked around her house feeling the warmth of the morning sun in the souls of her bare feet. She opened the cream colored kitchen cabinets one after the other, trying to find a clean cup that wasn’t soaking in the towers reaching higher from the kitchen sink.  
  
She thought of how she had missed those times in a strange manner, still at the same time trying to distance herself from them. She thought how her life and she herself had changed as the hands of the clock made their circles, turning into years past. She thought of her childhood home, so far away and about to be sold off in the divorce disagreement that kept on prolonging itself. She thought of her father, Robert, begging Karen to get back and drowning in his own rage and disappointment. But most she thought of the months that had passed, of the season of summer that she had spent with Toby, that had traveled to spend the summer with her for every year since she moved to Wales. But this time he was staying, he had just started work and entered a new high school, the reception being warm and overly-excited as usual when it came to Toby.  
  
She sighed giving up the search (although she had already been standing there like she was sleeping on her feet for a long while) and drooped her head miserably to look down at the mountains of porcelain, glass and even chrome or silver. Well, she shrugged her shoulders, she had no hurry anyways having lost her job because of the recession.  
  
It was 11 A.M. and there she was, bare feet against the warm wooden planks, her dark brown, almost black hair reaching over her waist in long disoriented locks, and no one was blaming her for it. No one was hurrying her on and she liked it. Waking up when she felt like it. Eating taking her own time. Walking in the moors as long as she liked to, with no hurry at all gazing at the sky covered by the stormy, blue clouds. Feeling the waves pass through the seas of heather, the wind brushing her calm face and the scream of an owl echo through the familiar ever-changing scenery and her mind.  
She sat by the table painted faint green, feeling the roughness of the heathers spreading around from the round stony vase, she felt it with the tips of her fingers. She observed the flowers, that Toby had brought home after school the day before, with her bright, green eyes as she laid her head against her palm. The roof was probably caving in, she wondered whether it would last the next storm or even drizzle. She could ask Toby to try and fix it with her. Or just to bring enough buckets to last for a cataclysm on his way home.  
  
Toby would pop by at three, change his school uniform and take a shower, have a cup of hot chocolate with her before charging back out for his evening shift at the café. She smirked at herself when she thought of what father’s reaction would be if he heard that his Prince Charming, for whom dad had planned a bright wonderful future as an Oxford graduate (well, he originally thought Harvard) and whatever horror after that, was working as a waiter and cashier at a small Welsh coffee shop.  
  
A loud knock woke her up from her daydreams, she wondered if there was woodpecker close by. “I wonder what species it is, I think there is a book on ornithology somewhere in here…” she spoke to herself in excitement and started to get up ready to run for her office/library when she heard the knock again. Oh, the door! She had realized shaking her head laughing at herself and grabbed a grey blanket knitted with skilled patterns over her shoulders as she trotted towards the door. A man stood there outside her house, already walking away by the time she got to open the lock.  
  
The man turned around as he heard the sound of the old gears of the lock turning and clinking open. He saw a young pale woman with long dark hair flowing under the grey blanket draping her shoulders, leaving a strip of her legs bare to his eyes. The woman reminded him of a mythological creature, leaving him puzzled for a moment. Then the man lifted his cap courteously turning his steps back towards the door, his orange hair curly with the dampness and electricity of the air.  
  
“Hello, I already thought that there was nobody home.” the man turned around with a cardboard box in his arms, giving the woman an apologetic but kind smile. Sarah smiled in return, making the man get tangled in his own steps and before she got to answer she charged outside to keep the man from falling, catching the package in her arms as the man fell towards her.  
  
“Are you alright?” she asked helping the man regain his balance, smiling at her head at the situation as her blanket fell behind her like the cape of a queen.  
  
The man blushed red, and laughed a bit: “There’s a delivery for a Miss Sarah Williams from America, but I see you already caught it”. He scratched his orange hair glancing at her shyly under his hat, admiring the gallant woman from the corner of his brown, childish eyes.  
  
“I see” she nodded amused by his little joke. “Is there anything you need me to sign?” she added politely. The man turned even more pink with embarrassment before nodding as well.  
  
“Oh, yes indeed there is.” he laughed awkwardly handing over a notepaper with a black ink pen at the upper corner of it. “Thank you” he said in a quiet voice, not sure if she would hear it but she glanced at him in a kind manner while signing her name on the form. _S. Williams _, she wrote with tall crooked letters, the pen feeling a bit sweaty in her fingers before handing the form and pen back awkwardly as well, trying to keep hold of the large package.__  
  
“You’re welcome” she said before turning back in, the coldness of the road making the souls of her feet tingle already.  
  
“Wa-Wait!” the delivery man with ginger hair and a boyish look asked, making Sarah turn around surprised and then put the package on the floor, lifting her blanket back up. “Yes?” she asked curiously, wondering had she perhaps forgotten something and closed the door. Her feet were already freezing with the autumn coldness.  
  
The boy called himself an idiot in his head, quickly coming up with an excuse “Should you need anything… Any delivery… Services. You may call this number. Even if there’s a problem with this package, if it’s somehow damaged by its long adventure..” his voice got muffled when he realized how horrible it all sounded and solemnly handing over his card, looking shyly away.  
  
“Yes. That’s very kind of you.” Miss Williams said to his surprise, making him gaze up at her amazed at her response as she accepted the card. She was looking up at the dark grey sky “It looks like there’s going to be storm soon, the seagulls are flying low in circles, escaping from the clouds falling towards the earth. The wind is calm, but I can feel that in any moment it will make this scenery into a painting of a storming ocean. There’s water and electricity in the air, I can feel it creeping at the souls of my feet, curling around me”. Her voice was strangely worrying and too solemn for this world, her eyes dark, greener than emeralds shining in the light of the clouds. Her face eerily beautiful in its paleness and expression, her hair set softly into motion by a quiet, non-existing wind. He looked up at her frozen, both besotted and frightened by her entity, his hand still reaching to give her a card he was no longer holding, his hand still frozen mid-way in the air.  
  
His grandmother had always told stories of witches, and this time for the first time in ever he was convinced that he was gawking up at a witch. He lowered his hand in shock, wondering if he should have given the card to her in horror.  
  
“Anyways, I meant to say drive safely. Thank you a lot for delivering the package safely into my arms.” Sarah smiled warmly lifting the card up into a salut while opening the door with her other hand. The deliveryman sighed with relief, thinking how stupid he had been a moment ago. Of course it was the right choice, he wanted to see her smile again. There were no such things as witches. His grandmother was demented anyways, speaking of an owl’s shadow traveling in the moors and of magical, malicious peoples underground and spirits living in the trees. Oh, grandma… He had been terrified as a child, but nothing ever really happened, just silly stories for easily gullible children.  
  
“I will do my best. Have a wonderful day, Miss Sarah Williams.” he shouted chivalrously lifting his cap up while walking backwards. Oh, how wonderful she seemed. She looked like an elf princess from a grim, but fascinating, fairytale with an aura of warmth and kindness shining around her light grey cape. He hoped to see her again soon as he turned away walking towards his light blue van. He heard the door slide shut very softly and smiled to himself suddenly thinking to himself. “A storm, huh?  


 

 

 

  


 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


 

## Chapter Two

### The warmth of memories and The café of smoke and undead mannequins

  
  
Sarah closed the door smiling by herself, the boy seemed very nice and she studied the white and blue card in her hand. The name _Aeron Reese _was written on the card by hand, his phone number and address under it. The handwriting was neat and pretty, the edges decorated with soft swirls of ink, each one unique. And her smile got softer as she walked towards the green wooden table, suddenly remembering the box. She laid the card on the counter turning around seeing the large, mysterious cardboard box stare at her next to the doorway. Her feet were still freezing, so she sighed as she opened one of the closets close by the floor and took out a pair of woolly socks from the kitchen drawer.__  
  
“Thank you Toby” Sarah smiled as she pulled the colorful socks on, they reached her knees. They had been a gift from a lady in town when she first moved in, the lady had said that the autumn evenings were cold – not even mentioning the winter, the nice lady had laughed benignantly. The memory made Sarah smile even more, so much she felt a bit foolish, but she was thankful for the openness and kindness of the people around her. Even when she was a stranger, a few kind people saved her with their welcoming smiles and open hearts, saved her when it felt like nothing could. The warmth reached through the years, reached above her knees even in those wonderful loops.  
  
“Thank you Mrs. Bennett” she said wistfully, striking a pose with her feet simultaneously, pretending to be a sock model by the looks of it. Then she took the catwalk to the huge box by the door, tingling either with excitement or curiosity. Or it could have been just the woolly socks; they are known to have such a wonderful quality.  
  
“Or… like this, why didn’t I realize it at first?” Sarah laughed playing by herself. “I’d like to express my ever-lasting gratitude for your utmost kindness. So thank you, thank you truly, Mrs. Bennet” she spoke with her hands and expressions dramatically, taking a deep almost-Victorian bow at the end of her line. She lifted the hem of her navy night gown uncovering a bit of her thighs before sitting onto the floor in a girlish, theatrical manner, her legs on the other side of her body, the blue dress spread around her. Her hair had fallen partially over her face, making her look charmingly desirable. Like the protagonist of a fairytale or of any story at all. The mysterious femme fatale, the center of a ball, yet unreachable to all, hidden under the name Sarah Williams and more than the four walls of their house. Hidden by herself.  
  
She thought of Pride  & Prejudice as she reached for the scissors in the table between her and the couch under the small tinted window. Sarah thought of how she had nearly fainted when first coming here, spinning around in the sceneries in which the most amiable Mr. Darcy and the honorable, stubborn, Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet had ridden in her imagination. She sliced the tape on the package open. There had been a TV series about the book not too many years ago, she had watched it with Toby, it was still their absolute favorite filming. Sarah creaked the doors of cardboard open uncovering a vision of white packing paper with a note folded in three on top. She opened it, her heart beating with excitement.  
  
  
  
“Dear Sarah,  
  
I found these in the attic and figured you’d like to have them before your father rummages through the house either with an overly-enthusiastic real estate agent, chainsaw or a grade-schooler that is ‘mature for her age’.  
  
Please give Toby all my love, make sure he studies. Unlike community college, Oxford University has standards.  
  
Your wicked stepmother,  
  
Karen not-Williams-for-long  
  
P.S. I’ll be heading out to the Bahamas, perhaps Hawaii or the Mediterranean Sea even. I’ll send you the address when I get my roots on some faraway island for a while. It’s about time I get to feel some heat.  
P.P.S. Speaking of heat, how moist is the weather on the boyfriend-frontier? You’re too young to be a spinster, try putting yourself more out there, put on some lipstick and wear something nice, feminine and sexy. It’s an old wisdom that less is more, remember that. My friend’s husband is a baronet and his eldest son just broke off his engagement, she’d love to invite you for dinner, I’m sure. Just don’t go in a sweat suit, please.”  
  
  
  
The words written with posh handwriting clean of humanity made the opaque paper shiver in Sarah’s hands as she drooped over it. She stood on her knees hissing sounds escaping through her teeth until she finally let it echo through the apartment. And it was clear, undiminished laughter that made her shoulders bounce as she fell back on the floor relaxed, like the string of a bow after firing.  
  
“Haaaaaah” she gasped for air. “Oh Karen, what would I do without you trying to pimp me off to every nobleman between 7 and 85 on the continent?” she muttered amusedly to herself while pressing her pale hand on her forehead.  
  
“Besides, I think the saying is more about art or life, rather than women’s clothing” Sarah gave a laugh as she whispered these words quietly continuing her explanation in whispers “The words can put a window into many rooms, the living room of décor or the studio of a primitive artist, or even outside into life. To remind the decorator of the value of just one vase, its utter beauty as the light makes it overflow with everything in the air, remind it of the air around it and of the air and sand it was made of, of the love its creators have for it. The beauty of life. Or one line...” her words slowly faded away into invisibility as her breath turned into attempts to find the air again, the joyous air floating around the colorful vase in her imagination.  
  
“One line…” she tried softly once more, her voice breaking like an Art Nouveau picture of stained glass into tiny, light sobs echoing from the cradle of her ribs. Very few would know the reason of her sobs turning into genuine cries, they might find it to be self-hatred towards her figure or standing. But this. It was not. Some might cry out in their morose tones that she was mourning for the divorce of his father. And in parts, this was true, though not in this year and not with that woman, but the loss of a woman who used to brush her hair every night. Yet again, it was only a tone in her cry that could always be heard, but never fully found in her voice. Not the reason making screaming tears fall down her still young cheeks, palms of her lined hands and the helm of her modern blue night gown.  
  
A cacophony of suggestions shouted by absolute strangers would continue to rise or fall, until a quiet, scared voice would stutter from the corner: “She’s in love.” And it would be answered with astounded, egoistic and cruel remarks made by mannequins sitting around the imaginary café filled with smoke and violent shouting. “In love?! Have you gone mad, you pathetic creature?” “Look at that bundle of sobs, how could anyone love her?” “She’s so much in tears, so old she could grow moss on her back” Sharp, unharmonious laughter would seep through the almost liquid smoke, fall on her back arching over the floor that was growing colder. Her hair would fall over her head as a dark wave of pain and the shards of glass growing less bright would be her only friends. Her neck would be left bare.  
  
“Get serious now, would you, my dear… Oh, I don’t know what you are!” the mannequin woman would cry out in a mocking, repulsed voice listening and living on the applause of the wooden hands before laughing “How could she possibly be in love when there is absolutely no one to be in love with?”. The coquette mannequin leaned to it its side, one hand on its waist and the other speaking in eloquent movements of glamour and despise.  
  
Yes… How could she…? Such a thought was almost about to be born as the pitying, laughing voices ticked on. “I mean, she’s barely been even kissed! Oh! Has she been kissed? Does anyone know?!” another voice peaked from the wooden crowd in an entertained, screaming fashion before one voice could be heard, even in the midst of all of her terror and their conceited, loud uselessness. A voice could be heard, calmly stating what it felt to be true.  
  
“She’s in love with no one.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Chapter Three

### A box of magical memories and The melody of times changing/long-hidden secrets

### 

  
The nostalgic jazz-like music humming through the café inside her imagination would come to a halt, so would the creaking, breaking voices of the idle mannequins. Only an echo of a melody played by the trumpet fading into the complete silence could be heard as the smoke grew thicker around the mannequins, light catching the oriental swirls of it. A lamp, that had gone unnoticed, hang over her casting a moonlight halo around her in shades of nostalgia. Like the spotlight she had once dreamed of, in which she had gotten up to the stage to speak words of love and loss so many years ago.  
  
Her cries sank into the silence and she lifted her head, shivering, to see the cardboard box in front of her, its door wide open to the ceiling like the arms of a dancer taking her final bow in the spotlight. Sarah helped herself to sit back on her knees, the palms of her freezing hands scraping the sand on the café floor and she sniffed for a few times as she wiped her tears with her fingers. The cardboard box… She had forgotten all about it. Sarah lifted her gaze slowly in amazement and creeped a bit closer to the box, sniffing for one final time more.  
  
The white silk paper shone brightly in the comfortable light of the past dangling over the woman and the large box. She reached her wondering hands towards the mysterious waves of the paper yellowed by the spotlight and as her hand flowed onwards the smoke as well as its inhabitants faded away until her hands felt the softness of the paper and the artificial café was gone. And there she was, next to the front door, surrounded by the lovely blue walls of her own home and the comforting kindness of the noon sun in autumn.  
  
As she opened the folds of the packaging paper warmth flowed back into her, from the loops of her long socks and it was as if someone had knitted a blanket for her of sun rays, that her already tranquil body soaked in. From the safety of the soft blankets of paper peaked an ear of a shade of faded orange and she gave a soft laugh.  
  
“Sir Didymus!” and Sarah picked the stuffed toy up from the corner of its ear, soon allowing the small squirrel cradle on the palm of her hand, studying its white moustache and covered eye, washed-out red vest and small blue cap. “Oh, what are you doing here?” she asked the soft toy in a wondering, but delighted tone, considerably reminding a younger version of herself while tilting her head and her curious eyes shifting around the toy.  
  
“That must mean that…” she gasped in exhilarated excitement as she put Sir Didymus gently down on the oak floor to lean on the box she soon leaned over. “That must mean that…” she repeated herself in whispers and continued with a cry: “… They’re all here?”. And she started to lift the dream-like covers of paper and bubble wrap finding one precious memory after another. Ludo with his crooked, but all so gentle smile and little horns. A white pavilion wrapped with plastic bubbles. The fiery, with its mischievous looks and a daft smile. On the very bottom of the box sat a grumpy, ill-natured figure of wood. “Even Hoggle… that would explain as to why the box was so heavy” Sarah half laughed, half gasped while surrounding herself with almost-touchable childhood memories and the soft forms of her noble friends. She brushed a lock of her dark, veil-like hair behind her human ear, childlike both in the amazement and joy on her face and the aura of purity and warmth around her, the halo of a child’s heart. The way she lifted her friends was gentle and oddly similar to a painting of Queen Blanka or a little child on Christmas Eve admiring her doll against the light.  
  
She lifted other figures wrapped in clothes of plastic bubbles, whispering: “Oh, it couldn’t be…” and the object she was holding was a momentum from her high school play, a rose of dark red silk, from Juliet’s crown of roses. “Oh, how beautiful it is…” she whispered in nostalgia, her mind dancing around in sceneries yet unseen by our eyes. The box was piled with memories and a bright parade of objects of glass, wood and silk emerged from it like candy raining down from a piñata. That, of course, was only a bit over a half of the box for as she lifted up all the toys she had decided to keep so long ago and the precious momentous of her school days from elementary to high school, the smallest prettiest library anyone could imagine was uncovered.  
  
What followed was the girliest squeal ever heard on the moors of Wales, making a crow turn its head in despise. “Alice… Dorothy… Snow White… I… Me… I… I just can’t believe it!” she stuttered like as anyone would seeing Bowie in tights. “Oh, even the Grimm Brothers and the Danish Tales!” she fanned herself almost tearing up, also reminding someone seeing Bowie in tights. Or just Bowie at all. I’ll do you the courtesy to spare you from the euphoria and ecstasy of the following 23 minutes, 59 seconds and two quarters of a second – which in no manner would suggest that I was counting or anything. Some narrators just happen to carry accurate pocket watches.  
  
As she lifted the pile of books she had forgotten in the attic onto her lap, a collection of board games was next to follow. How odd… she thought… Karen did have a heart after all. She was both a tad suspicious and quite moved by her almost-former-stepmothers kindness before she saw a vision that made her cheeks flush as pink as a cherry flower. Sarah turned her eyes away from the box quicker than a girl reading pulp fiction, and slowly lifted the box with the tittle ‘Dungeons & Dragons’ out of her line of sight.  
  
And that is as to when, finally, an array of cards – or bookmarks to be more specific – unfolded much like an eastern fan. Bookmarks that were sealing in dozens of flowers of unnumbered species and messages. Only one of each. A lilac thistle reminding something grabbed out of a child’s woolly hat. A few amethystine branches of wisteria, with a fairy-like air around them. Even the tiniest water lily was among those precious herbs and flowers. A tiny flower white as snow, like a star in its contours. And flowers of quince, as bright red as blood or the gates of Japan. Beautiful petals of rhododendron decorated one of the bookmarks made of cardboard, paint, herbs and childhood love.  
  
She watched them with bewildered, longing green eyes, a shade of sorrowfulness in those irises staring into a time that she thought she had left behind. But there it was, crammed up in the most ordinary cardboard box of all boxes nonetheless containing impossible, never quite forgotten, yet all so dear things. Sarah reached out her hand into the mysterious depths of the unexpected box, running her soft fingers through the cards, until her hand was startled up from the box by sharp pain. It was almost as if something had bit her, or pierced her skin with no remorse, or more like a spark of fire or electricity, but to her great surprise there was no mark left on her fingers.  
  
“Huh…” she wondered aloud finally stating to herself “I wonder, perhaps, this might just mean that I have already spent too much time delving into the past…”. And she got up, leaving a ring of wonderful, dear things behind her. And despite her words she carried the white pavilion decorated with golden edges, and a petite dancer wearing a dress as overflowing as a rhododendron, to sit by the table with her. After wrapping the bubble wrap off from the music box, she laid it on the table, near by the forest of heathers.  
  
“It still works” she said in amazement and those were her final words as the hours danced around the table, dragged around the hands of the clock and jumped over kitchen cabinets like the sugar plum fairies in fantasies. The sound of light, sorrowful music only interrupted by the moment of reality when she had to spin the lever around to continue the fantasy for yet another moment longer. And the melody of her thoughts was full of aching, frustration and the notes of first love that lasted longer than many could imagine. A melody of long-hidden secrets.  
  
The dancer in white had stopped and Sarah simply stared at it leaning her head against the palm of her hand. Did she even notice? Her eyes were shining of an unknown light, almost closing, when she heard the loud noise from the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Chapter Four

### Prince in Pink and the flies beneath his feet

### 

  
  
“Gaaaaaaaaah!” an unearthly scream could be heard from the doorway and a furious cronkle of metal as the lock was almost being forced open. In a moment the door was slammed open so harshly that one could almost think it came off flying far away to the moors and the voice of the wind howling filled the room with movement from the old copper chandelier to the wooden floor.  
  
“Sarah!” the sound of an almost grown man shouted desperately “Help me get the door, quickly!”. And so she ran across the howling room with swinging warm-colored spotlights, past the boy with nearly 80’s hair and out into the scenery with storming clouds. Had she not grabbed the edge of the door and struggled to close it against the will of the wind, she would have seen every heather, plant or anything even remotely alive come alive by the whispers of the wind. The sky was hidden by a blanket of monotonous but whirling clouds of grey, a battle of unaccountable light and sudden shadows, but her hair flaming as wildly as the wind blinded her eyes from it. The small stones, on the doorstep of rock, grinded into her bare feet and her navy blue night gown was spread into a protuberant bluebell as she turned to say her goodbyes to the battle and closed the door.  
  
They both stood by the door, panting, the offspring of the ‘honourable Williams household’ – except that there was no such thing as ‘honour’ in their fathers dictionary (or if there was, he would have not known how to read it while his secretary was lying on it) and even the house with the dictionary was being sold. There was hardly anything left to hold them either, so I guess that just leaves the offspring of the Williams. But… even that wasn’t as simple, considering that there were two Mrs. Williamses, both Linda and Karen, and both former ones very soon... Or that would depend on how long Robert plans to drag out the disagreement in court. Linda is definitely a former one anyways. Though it’s surprising how such a dud managed to marry two such wonderful women – well the second one is questionable. Oh, where was I again? So, let us proceed by non-complexly calling them Toby and Sarah.  
  
“Well… That was something.” Toby laughed while breathing heavily, giving a thankful glance to his favorite sis from the gaps of his wind-brushed hair. His hair was the colour of butterscotch leaning to an almost brownish, caramel-like colour and he had a brown paper bag leaning against his feet. Sarah gave a laugh after which she asked “You… wouldn’t think that a plastic bag with actual handles would have been easier?”.  
  
Toby stretched his hands up towards the wobbly ceiling and the mysterious sky above it as he smirked “One can never be too environmental”. He was already heading towards the kitchen table carrying the bag of groceries before he had reached the final syllable and he laid the paper bag on one of the bluish chairs. “Besides, it looks cute” he smiled before the punch “to carry it, and over your head.”.  
  
“Oyo, when did you grow to be such an ungrateful imbecile?” Sarah shot out while leaving her spot where she had remained to lean against the door just to be sure it would stay shut.  
  
“I don’t know, it must have been the time you served the 18th century British Army.” he stated calmly while loading carrots and minced beef into the fridge. Sarah simply moped, she was in no mood for Toby's idiotic games or anything but the sound of the dancer of the ball spinning around and around and the world going dark around it. She grabbed oranges and bag of peaches from the chair, pouring the oranges grumpily into a vase and laying the bag on the counter taking no further action as her brother was seemingly trying to find Narnia from the depths of the apparat.  
  
“No, don’t put them near the apples, the peaches will rot sooner if you do.” Toby advised while emerging from the kitchen appliance and softly moving the fruits further apart and Sarah turned around volcanically to snap at the all-so-perfect, meddlesome housewife:  
  
“I don’t give a shait about your… Pfft!”. She slammed her hands against the counter grabbing it tightly as she threw her face away from Toby.  
  
“Sarah, are you okay?” Toby asked worriedly putting his hand on her arm while pushing the fridge door closed with his foot distractedly. She gave him a rapid glance, turning her face back away from him again with no delay, making his worry grow thicker. He was just about to apologize, when Sarah took a deep breath and spun around to face him. There was a distorted grin on her pale face. She had her right hand still pressing against the counter and the other one trying to cover her fidgeting smile. She lifted her right hand to point at his head casually, an exhilarated glow in her eyes.  
  
“What?” Toby said taken aback by his sisters peculiar behaviour “Is there something on my face?”. He patted his beauteous cheeks suddenly terrified of the plausible cause of her mad expression, but she shook her head letting out a few sounds of held-back laughter. His distressed hands moved up to touch his usually meticulously done prince-charming-hair before he charged around and past the table in terror to jump skin to surface against the bathroom mirror. Sarahs head fell towards the counter as she laughed almost inaudibly at first, her laughter getting louder by the minute – it did have a hyena-like sound to it.  
  
Something between a roar and a shriek echoed from the bathroom just a few seconds before Toby trotted out unknotting the sleeves of his school uniform jacket that he had tied to his waist before starting to undo the groceries. He unbuttoned the top of his ruffled, white collar shirt before pulling and throwing it off. Sarah kept laughing leaning against the counter, pressing her forehead with the palm of her hand as the monsoon with wide furious eyes tossed his uniform around as he paced his route around the hall, bathroom and his bedroom hissing as he walked. A pair of cut jeans flung across the floor only to hit the entourage of chairs around the green table. A white towel spiralling around his waist disappeared around the corner and soon a sound of water gushing out marked that Bonnie Tyler was taking a shower.  
  
“Haah, I haven’t seen a hairdo like that since the 80’s or since the cast of Hair came into town.” Sarah muttered laughing to herself against the palm of her hand and then spun around to sit on one of the chairs. Her heart was beating with joy and the smile on her face seemed like it would never fall off. “Oh good, it looks like all the eatables have already been unloaded.” she spoke as she glanced at the kitchen cabinets before getting up again.  
  
The phone rang as she was putting water to the electric kettle, she felt that the least she could do to comfort him was to offer him a cup of chocolate. Sarah quickly put the electric kettle on as she heard the noise and walked up to the phone. She took a quick dramatic breath before seizing the machine into her soft, gentle hands. And this is what followed.  
  
“Hello?” Sarah asked in a friendly, wondering tone – they didn’t get calls too often, only reasonably of course.  
  
“What the … Who are you? What’s your relationship with our...” a high-pitched huffy voice spoke out in a fit of pique before someone else interrupted in whispers:  
  
“Wait, Gwenny, it could be his mother! Oh no, I mean, I’ve heard he lives with her older sister so that could be…”  
  
“What? Older sister? Our Toby has an older sister?” the girl who had spoken, Gwenny presumably, whispered out to the other girl worked-up by the scoop “That is so, so cute! But what older sister?”  
  
“You know, the spinster living far out on the moors!” the other girl whispered back equally excited.  
  
“Whaaat… The hag of the wildlands is really related to that divine...” Gwenny gasped still talking in whispers, that were really too loud to be whispers. Gwennys voice was cut short by Sarah clearing her throat. “Was there anything you needed?” Sarah spoke out in a cold tone growing tired of listening to their benighted chatter.  
  
“Yes, there really was. I’m sorry, Ms. Williams, we just thought for a moment that you might have been his girlfriend which would have been so…” the girl called Gwenny spoke dramatically emphasizing the word Miss whether she meant to or not. She meant to.  
  
“Oh, how funny.” Sarah laughed with a chilling voice wondering if she could just let the phone drop and someone drop dead with it.  
  
“Anyways… Is Toby there?” the other girl came up to the phone laughing, nearly troubled by the situation.  
  
“No.” Sarah stated.  
  
The other end was dumbfounded before Sarah tried to force herself to keep on speaking, they were just kids after all.  
  
“He already went to work.” Sarah explained ignoring the sounds of water rushing in the next room staring blankly at the table.  
  
“Oh, that’s too bad! We were hoping to ask him out with us to… We’re friends of his, you know…” Gwennie had taken over the phone again while the other girl started to urge her impatiently still apparently whispering:  
  
“What are you doing? Hang up already!”  
  
“Shut up Maggie! I’m trying to make a good impression on my future sister-in-law!” Gwennie answered in a voice that could no longer be even confused with a whisper.  
  
Sarah laid the phone back down mechanically commenting aloud “Okay, I’m going to make hot chocolate”.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Chapter Five

## 

### Whatever happens: Do Not Touch It – Sarah’s degree on Domestic sciences

### 

  
  
  
And so she did, and in case you have already forgotten what is the action that we’re talking about, let’s take a guess. Sarah scooped a few spoonfuls of brown powder into the bottoms of two irregular bowls, whisking almost half a litre of boiling water on top of it and stirring it with a twisted fork. The sound of metal crowing against the porcelain in circles lasted for a while before she woke up from her also circling thoughts enough to lift the fork a bit upper.  
  
‘Old… I’m not old, I’m not even nowhere near middle age!’ is what she thought ‘And I’m definitely not old enough to be called a spinster! How dared those immature sticks call me a hag!’. The whisking movements started to accelerate on both of the cups as her thoughts spiralled deeper into frustration. ‘This is not nineteenth century Britain, is it! Most women don’t even marry before their thirties, it’s completely normal… Wait, thirties… I’m turning thirty soon. But at least I’m not a hag! I’m usually kind to others and try act fairly towards them – I am not a hag, am I?’ The circling of the forks had gradually started to slow down until it came to a halt with the unexpected, terrifying question.  
  
“Tsih” she let out moving out of her frozen pose with a lunatic stare in her eyes, she opened one of the cabinets taking out an enormous bag of sugar and poured a handful of it into both of the bowls. Her thoughts hadn’t stopped giving out shrieking alarms making her mind stir around in worry. ‘No, it couldn’t be. No, no, no! What if soon start to walk like a parody of a villain or an old woman from some Disney movie? Do I get menopause? Aren’t those supposed to come around the time a woman reaches her fifties, or am I wrong? What if my body shrivels up and my face will be as wrinkly as unironed shirt? Wrinkles?!’ Sarah dropped the forks at their places and charged for her bedroom mirror as fast, almost as despairingly, as Toby had just a few dozen minutes ago. There she was, leaning against her dressing table, her beautiful unearthly jade eyes wide with shock and her dark hair dishevelled by the battle with the wind, covering her other eye and parts of her face. ‘It couldn’t be’ she cried in the hall of her mind and threw her hair back from her pale, frozen face. She started to run her hands through her cheeks and the skin around her eyes, looking for wrinkles or any marks of her growing older. But there were none, she still looked the same she had five years ago, only her hair had grown longer and her skin even whiter. She still looked like herself and not a day older. ‘How can this be…? Did I just overreact?’ her voice walked wondering through her mind.  
  
“Sarah, are you okay?” Toby’s voice called out from the doorway to her room, he had a long asymmetrically wrapped towel around his waist and another one hanging loosely on top of his head. He walked in drying his hair carefully, already relaxed and calm. He might have already been ready to laugh at the absurd farce that took place half an hour back but seeing her expression he could do nothing but worry of the cause… This time around there was no mistake in her behaviour, there was something wrong.  
  
“What happened, Sarah?” Toby asked his reflection appearing into the round mirror next to her.  
  
“Your friends called” Sarah announced, her voice weak with tears that had risen to the surface by her sudden shock and obnoxious worry: would she have long to live, would anyone ever fall in love with her. She started to jolt with her cries trying to be free and heard until she could no longer keep them in and her cries echoed through the room. Toby opened his arms and Sarah threw herself into them and they hugged each other warmly.  
  
“Oh, Sarah. They couldn’t have been my friends if they made a hunk like you upset.” Toby joked around quietly, speaking the truth aloud nonetheless and Sarah gave a soft laugh pressing her forehead against Tobys shoulder. He was catching up way too quickly with her height, he would grow up to be 180 or even 190 centimetres in no time at all and that made Sarah worry as well.  
  
“Ah, I’d hate to say this but I’m wearing only a towel and a headpiece, so it would be nice if I could…” Toby said a tad embarrassed and Sarah quietly let her little brother loose taking a step back and smiling with tears running down her face and Toby replied to her smile relieved. He led himself out of the room stopping as he noticed the two colorful bowls on the counter surrounded by small heaps of cocoa powder and presumably sugar.  
  
“I was making hot chocolate” Sarah explained sniffing and advanced a bit closer to the kitchen and her brother standing in it.  
  
“I see, why don’t you put some milk or cream in it? While I get ready for my shift.” Toby suggested smiling softly, he was happy seeing the two bowls sitting on the counter in waiting.  
  
When Toby had disappeared from the kitchen Sarah walked up to the kitchen roll wiping her tears and blowing her nose. She washed her hands and fetched the liquid from the fridge pouring it into the two bowls. The vision looked marvellous and she carried the bowls to the table, careful not to spill them. She did and after letting out a curse she sprang for the kitchen roll starting to wipe the table under the bowl clean when Toby re-entered the room.  
  
She turned out to greet the brother but was frozen with shock at the vision. For there he stood his royal curls damp, his face nonamused, wearing his usual work clothing – a collared shirt and straight pants – only this time his usually clean white shirt was light pink.  
  
“Sarah… By any chance, did you wash the laundry?” Toby asked in a serious tone, but in the end neither of them could not do anything but burst out laughing. The mysterious colouring culprit was discovered by Sarah later in the evening to be a pair of something she had once bought in a fit of determination and booze to find more interesting undergarments than the white ones she had. She was truly thankful that she was the one who had found them and not anyone else.  
  
Anyways, back to them fooling around the kitchen in the late afternoon: Toby had finished chopping vegetables and lamb and was gently laying them in the oven to cook for the evening until he returned. Sarah would probably stay up late anyways, and now Toby had made sure that she had something more to eat than old soap and canned tomatoes. He was satisfied of all of it as he sat on the other side of the table, opposite from Sarah leaning against it and warming her hands on the enormous bowl of hot chocolate that had almost cooled down enough to be drank.  
  
“Lechyd da!” they cheered slowly, carefully bumping their bowls together over the pot of heather and took a careful taste. Tobys almost feminine, untainted lips turned to a curled smile and he nodded a few time as he spoke:  
  
“It’s awfully sweet”.  
  
And Sarah simply laughed as she drank down another gulp of the mysterious, yet sweet enough, liquid. Toby chose to not speak of the episode before, to ask of the phone call, he felt it to be better not to and he suddenly remembered seeing something odd on his way here.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
“What is it? Did you find a surprise bit from the cacao deliceux ala Sarah?”  
  
“No, and for the information that doesn’t make it any easier to drink this.” Toby muttered jesting and before Sarah could jump back in defence he continued:  
  
“What I meant that there was something odd I saw on the way here. There was a light blue van parked on the bank of the road, but no one could be seen near it, I even tried the door and it wasn’t even locked.”  
  
“That is odd, there could have been something wrong with the car but if that were the case he or she would have surely found the house on the end of the road.” Sarah wondered aloud and took a sip from her bowl.  
  
“Or the driver could have headed back to town to look for help or rest for the night and fetch the van later.” Toby continued speculating throwing in another theory of how the situation could have progressed.  
  
“But the town is so far away, and difficult to find for strangers and you saw no one on the way, did you?” Sarah continued questioning and Toby shook his head firmly in return. “And it would be even more difficult to find since there are few land marks, the road sometimes disappears and reappears and takes long turns… Especially challenging as it would soon grow dark and with the weather...” Sarah stopped in shock. And they both realized it at the exact same tock of the clock.  
  
“The storm! How didn’t I realize it?” Toby gasped throwing his hand over his lips.  
  
“Oh my goodness, he’s going to be like a walking lightning detector out there on the moors, there is hardly a tree or anything taller than a three-year-old child out there!” Sarah spoke out alarmed, clearly upset by the situation and aware of the grave danger.  
  
“He could have just went wondering on the moors for the day, parked there and would surely return when he noticed the clouds. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Toby tried to reassure Sarah even when he was equally worried of the situation and the safety of the vans driver.  
  
“Then why didn’t he lock the door!”  
  
“He could be senile?”  
  
“Well that doesn’t make it any better!” Sarah gasped in frustration when and an idea suddenly hit her younger stepbrother.  
  
“Tell you what, I’ll be off to work soon and we’ll drive by the spot. I’ll text you if we see anything or if the van is still there. Okay?” Toby suggested confidently, hiding his anxiety in to a firm plan, not only for Sarah but to ease both of them by finding a way to help the poor driver that could have gotten lost at the moors. The moors, that could be ruthless as the wind got louder and the storm was lurking nearer than anyone could guess.  
  
“Okay” Sarah nodded solemnly, relieved by the plan and determined to leave for the moors with a raincoat and a flashlight if such measures were needed. She was truly hoping that the stranger that had abandoned the vehicle to the road would be alright, and so did Toby. Their bowls were nearly empty, well Tobys was emptier since Sarah had quite forgotten to drink while being concerned for the mystery person. “Hahah” Toby laughed making Sarah gaze up at him with questioning eyes before he laughed “We’re starting to sound like the Cranford Women, aren’t we?”  
  
“Haha. Yes, indeed we are” Sarah laughed as well both surprised and amused by the sudden remark, and her eyes gradually got softer with her expression.  
  
“Sipping tea and talking drama in the faint light by the table at evening.” Toby went on as he got up sighing from the table and put the bowl on the draining board. He turned around to give a mutual, warm smile for Sarah before he got down to check the roast in the oven and gave another, more serious glance towards Sarah. Sarah that sat there with her legs crossed, her long hair loose and a wondering expression on her face as she travelled her fingers against the edge of the bowl.  
  
“Sarah.” he called out and she gave a wondering sound as an answer. Toby continued hearing it: “I put the roast in the oven, it should be done by around midnight when I get home from work. You don’t have to do anything, or even wait up for me. Go to sleep if you feel like it and eat in the morning. But before I get home… Whatever happens, do not touch it.”. His tone was solemn and commanding and Sarah smirked in return.  
  
“Understood, chef.” she replied gleefully and leaning against the table with her elbow making Toby answer to her with a relieved, child-like smile before he got up from the floor to gather his things. He had left the green apron he had used while cooking to rest on the chair back and he walked past it in the already dimmer room, with only a lamp on the corner and the copper chandelier radiating warm light in to the room. He marched through the faint shadows throwing on his long greyish coat and long knitted scarf, threw his bag over his head and shoulder before saluting Sarah and walking out the door. Sarah could hear a sudden hint of rain beginning as the door opened and closed, and so she ran towards the coat stand to grab an umbrella she couldn’t clearly see in the dimness and the rush she was in.  
  
“Toby!” she yelled out as she leaned out the door in haste and could see her brothers figure turning around in the faint drizzle, his scarf softly wavering in the seemingly calmed wind. “You might need this when you come back.” she added stretching out the light pink umbrella decorated with flowers and Toby smiled as he ran back. There was a grey car behind him, waiting to take him to the café in town.  
  
“I see that the shirt wasn’t enough.” he commented briskly giving a teasing glare to the manliest umbrella Sarah could have found. “Thank you.” he said smiling nonetheless giving Sarah a quick, tight hug before running back over to the passenger’s seat and having an inaudible discussion with the driver. The figure behind the wheel gave Sarah a polite and warm nod, also lifting his hand into a salut into which Sarah replied with the same gestures, suddenly realizing her outfit and shut the door slowly. She leaned against the door bemused by the situation and then went over to close the light at the corner after which she returned to her seat by the bowl of no-longer-hot chocolate.  
  
There she stayed in her thoughts for several minutes… Eight and twelve, and sipped the drink and thought of the mysterious driver and Toby as the minutes passed. Toby had grown so mature, not only his height and stance, but Toby himself which could be heard in his words and actions, even when he still reminded her of a little mischievous boy. Would Toby be alright and as the thought entered her head, her cell phone beeped in the corner with the lights shut. On the thirteenth minute.  
  
She got up, lifting the bowl to the counter and walked calmly towards the small square, blue light in the corner. Sarah picked up the phone finding the text “You have 1 new message” on the screen. She opened it:  
  
“Van is gone. The driver must have gone home. All is well, sleep tight! :-)”  
  
  
Sarah sighed with relief, happy to hear from Toby and the news that the driver was safe. She typed a quick reply saying thanks and wishing him good night and luck for work. She let out an urgh as she stretched her body, she had been so worried that it had made her grow tense and tired, and finally it was alright. No reason to worry.  
  
She walked towards the cardboard box, crouched down next to it and picked out a book at random, since she could see very little in the shadows nearing darkness.  
  
“Well, since I’m already wearing my pyjamas…” she made the excuse to herself as she jumped back first to her huge, soft bed with beautiful linen. “Oh, H.C. Anderson it is” she laughed opening a story again by random, finding the story of Gerda and Kai and the Snow Queens mirror. And in those fairytales she cuddled into she stayed, enjoying her time enormously and feeling comfortable and safe. And in those feelings she fell asleep the fairytales following her to the land of all dreams.  
  
She dreamt of the Snow Queen kissing Kai twice in her carriages made of ice, of Gerda’s tears and her desperate, yet always hopeful search for him and as the stories flew across her dreams, other kinds of dreams arise as well. She dreamt of strange, menacing, gurgling noises – it was almost if they were coming from the room next to her. She dreamt of the dancer of the ballroom stepping out of the pavilion gently in her beautiful, extraordinary dress of sparkling white and spinning around the green table with heather, with piruettes, plies and effortless leaps as the music of the box played quietly. She dreamt of a loud bang at the door and heavy rain gushing down the roof. Except… That wasn’t a dream and she carefully, sleepily parted her eyelids revealing a quiescent glimmer of the green in her eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Chapter Six

## 

### The Storm has risen

### 

  
  
  
Sarah blinked her eyes slowly, suddenly hearing masses of water drumming and running down the roof. Had she been fully awake, she would have worried of the state of the roof, but she was still finding her way out of the land of all dreams. Had there been some sort of a noise, besides the rain, she thought gently to herself.  
  
‘Was… Was that a knock?’ a question formed in her head full of wonderful dreams and memories as the sound of a civil knock repeated itself. It was more of a forceful knock, but she was too fluffy to realize that at the moment. Sarah’s dark brown hair had fallen over her head in wonderful nearly magical swirls and waves that followed her as she sat up at the edge of the bed.  
  
Her expression was calm and relaxed, a happy one as she yawned and started to sail towards the front door, slamming the antique copper chandelier on as she swayed her way. She laid her wondering hand on the door unlocking it, not even stopping to think it was already night and who it could be, and slid the door open into a scenery of storming rain dancing with the wind. But there was a figure right front of her, an obscenely tall one, that she could barely make out in her still cuddly sentiments and the strange lighting.  
  
“Hello Sarah.” with those same words he walked his dark, peculiarly tall figure out from the pouring rain, past her doorstep and back into her heart. His golden hair had grown taller nearing his waist that was enfolded by a long coat of dark leather, and luminous beads of water were sliding down his body. Sarah had automatically fallen a few steps back as the man, she could not help recognizing in a heartbeat, had walked in.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Sarah demanded, with not even a hint of the uneasiness she was feeling in her voice as her steps kept leading her away from the doorway and mostly from the man standing in front of it.  
  
“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” he returned confidently giving her a teasing glance as his polished boots casually led him around the room. “It’s a nice little cottage you’ve got here.” he spoke apparently half to himself “Looks exactly like one of my broom closets in the Goblin Castle. Only a lot smaller.” he remarked strutting around the room both with his eyes and boots, in no hurry at all. Sarah had fallen back against the green table whilst he spoke, her hardened eyes watching Jareth parade around her home self-assuredly as he suddenly turned around to face her sliding closer to her stiffening body.  
  
“Have you figured it out yet?” he asked amused as he closed the distance between them, his unendurable powerful eyes studying her entity as she squeezed her fingers around the edge of the familiar kitchen table.  
  
“I’ve missed you, my dearest girl.” his words turning into a dark, tempting whisper and his wondering hand neared Sarah’s face spellbindingly.  
  
“Go back.” she ordered, disgust in her firm voice.  
  
Jareth did as he was told, followed her orders though in a manner she hadn’t quite intended and walked a few steps back, slowly. Teasing her, giving her room to think and breathe for a moment. His beckoning eyes never losing sight of hers, that couldn’t stand meeting his strange, antisymmetric irises and she turned her gaze to the darkened doorway.  
  
“The rain is falling in.” she stated out walking past the Goblin King she knew to be standing in the shadows. “Why didn’t you close the door? If you’re so high and mighty in your fancy curved throne…” Sarah finished muttering in frustration, trying to calm herself. Sarah closed the door, he had let her, but felt his fingers on her back, playing with the ends of her enchanting hair. She turned around frightened seeing him standing there, so close, his fingers still lifted in the air playing with her hair. His face and tone both demanding, yet pondering and seemingly calm as he replied.  
  
“Because, my darling, you didn’t listen through. To your… greatest… fortune I, the Goblin King, fell in love with a mortal once. But, alas, the mortal was foolish enough to think she could run away from him” dark frustration and anger had creeped into his voice for a moment but it soon disappeared into his usual, besotting way, as if he was telling just any story. “So I let her mature little. Grow a little wiser, and well..” Jareth chuckled staring at her with eyes more violent than the storm raving outside. “And now, he has come to bring back what is his into a world of their own.” Leaning closer he caged Sarah with his impending body and the grim, passionate presence in his eyes. Sarah’s slender body was pressed against the door, the hands that had brushed the ends of her hair and then crumbled them resentfully were now keeping her a prisoner and she could feel the heat of his breath on her pale skin.  
  
“Are you quite mad?” she shouted, a shade of something getting closer to fear in her sharp voice.  
  
“You know I am.” Jareth smirked in return “You should know by now, that however long you run, however far you try to escape, even if it is to the furthest corners of this falling world: I will always be there. To catch you.”. His forceful, emphatic words were both a threat and a promise, depending on your standing on the matter.  
  
“How polite of you, but I think I’ll manage without.” she remarked coldly while trying to slip away from his grip, trying to breathe without his maddening eyes on her.  
  
“Do you know what I think?” Jareth stated fiercely as he grabbed her fragile wrist “It’s about time that his infuriating, childish game of yours comes to a halt! How does this doorknob function? Oh, like this.”. He dragged her through the open doorway into storming rain and moors rumbling with the fury of the wind and skies. She could feel the wet stones scraping the souls of her feet as she tried to fight back, but his pace was too furious for her to do anything but let the harsh branches of heather scrape her feet. It was dark, she could only see the dark figure of his back as he trotted in front of her, his long stark fingers entwined around her wrist, and the clouds surging high above them. The rain was cold.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded loudly yet again, trying to sound strong for the sake of herself.  
  
“I’ve built a mansion for you. You should like it a little better than your little broom closet.” Jareth replied shouting, the sound of the rain and wind was overwhelming.  
  
“Oyo, do you know how hard I’ve worked for that ‘ little broom closet!’” Sarah shouted as well, not because of the uproar around them, but cause of the indignation she felt by his nonchalant words.  
  
“Exactly so.” Jareth shouted back equally offended “You should’ve come for me for help. But eight years and you do not call me once! Do you even know how cruel you are to tear my heart into pieces?”. And so the king and the woman he loved the most wandered through the raging moors with rain beating them with its freezing strength, and only silence and their hands joined together by his overpowering will reached between them. No words were spoken aloud for a long time until Sarah was finally tired and cheerless enough to answer.  
  
“Anyways… What’s this talk of love?” she shouted nearing desperation. “You have never, not even once loved me.” Sarah remarked bitterly. Her bitter words made Jareth turn around faster than a lightning, that had filled the murky scenery with bright white light simultaneously.  
  
“Sarah!” he called her name sternly, the unexpected stopping of their vigorous walk making Sarah stumble on him. His furious, violent eyes turned softer as he saw her there, stepping back from his chest. The rain falls on them cold and uncomfortable as he stares at Sarah looking down at the ground, trembling in the freezing cold. Her feet bare and reddened by their nightly walk, not only the coldness but also the rough herbs rising from the ground. There she stood, looking like a miserable little kitten with her long watery hair, her pale legs left bare to the cold by the helm of her short blue dress, that revealed her form in its sogginess. His chest was filled with warmth, he could not stand to see her like this, not only his eyes, but his heart also had softened at the sight of her.  
  
“Come, we must make haste before…” Jareth urged her, moved by her sorrowful beauty he flipped his leather coat over her head to protect her while she sobbed embarrassed of her tears. Regardless of his words, they walked slower than before, his eyes always adjusted to the night constantly looking for a path that would be less painful for her to step on.  
  
“Before what?” Sarah tried to speak beneath her tears and his arm spread out like a wing to protect her from every harm that might try to come her way.  
  
“You’ll know, my love.”  
  
And their steps finally reach a distant road spotted with puddles rippling with light and suddenly… The road is no longer the same, but lined by olden trees of ocre and bright green. It’s a bright morning with a sun that has just bothered to wake up peaking from above the leaves of the ash trees.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


## Bonus Story Cynta

## 

### The Waiter with observant eyes, obliging ears and a heart of his own – An evening in the café

### 

  
  
‘That damn aristocratic royal brat, he’s almost fifteen minutes late by now.’ thought a young girl with loosely braided orange hair to herself grumpily, wearing a cream-colored apron with the café’s name written on it and carrying a silver tray with cups of coffee on her hands. She didn’t really mean to sound so rude, it’s just that she had a fierce temper and she had had a long day at school followed by a long afternoon shift. The Princes fanclub pestering her hadn’t made it any easier. But most importantly, she was in a hurry to the most important happening of her life past, now and future. Lacrosse practise.  
  
“There you go, a coffee black with pineapple flavour and a latte with soft cream.” she said smartly, giving a professional smile to her grandmother and Mrs. Ling, that owned a successful oriental restaurant & tea shop with her husband in the town next to theirs. But she had one unbecoming secret for the runner of teashop – she couldn’t stand tea, she hated it. So Mrs. Ling was a regular customer, always trying new flavours of coffee, drinking it always black. Most townsmen knew of it but every one of them was also determined to keep it a secret. Mrs. Ling had one more peculiar quality to her – one could never quite guess her age. She was supposedly an elderly, but had few wrinkles, she could have been thought to be a woman even in her late thirties or forties. And now she was nodding as a thank you to the girl who had delivered her precious essence of life safely to her hands – coffee black and she couldn’t have been happier.  
  
“Thank you, Morgan. Good luck for your practice tonight! It’s still going ahead with this weather?” her grandmother said kindly accepting the sweet latte delighted to see both her long-time friend and her vivid granddaughter, working hard and honestly as always. She also loved sweet things.  
  
“You’re welcome, Granny.” Morgan kissed her cheek quickly before answering solemnly “Of course it is. The dragons will keep flying whether it’s the hottest and driest of all summers, or pouring rain flooding the streets, or the worst storm of the century… Though it has been moved to the school hall this evening, which might help. Besides, it’s involuntary since a big game is coming up.”. She spoke her words with pride and passion, with pure excitement and fighting spirit taking over nearing the end.  
  
The rain was already pouring down ferociously, covering the grey street view outside the warm and chattering café with drapes of lines of water reaching up from the dancing street towards the hazy evening clouds. The dance of the water drops was revealed as two bright yellow lights lit the surface of the street. Morgan smiled relieved, a victorious light in her brown eyes. A grey familiar car was being parked to the other side of the street, two even more familiar men getting up and out from the front seats. One was a tall, slender yet strong man of the vivacious age of 27, his black scuffed hair that was usually pointing into all directions flattening in the rain. He had a neatly cut, little beard on his chin, his details disappearing into the rain he ran through.  
  
‘Leo…’ Morgan whispered in her head at the sight of the shop manager and owner. And finally, the other was the young man they all had been waiting for, each for their own reasons. Members of the fan club and his classmates simply to see him, to hear his voice and perhaps to try to even speak with him. One of them was sitting shyly in the cabinet in the farther left corner of the café, her heart beating loudly and a small gift bag in her hands. Morgan’s reason though was much more pressing. Lacrosse.  
  
So the boy known as Prince Toby by many who had met him – no one knew exactly from whom the nickname had come from, everyone just seemed to simply accept it – rose from the passenger’s seat fanning open a bright colored umbrella, which made Morgan give a surprised laugh, a customer nearly choke in his coffee and the fan girls nearly squeal over how cute and unexpected the combination was. The pair walked in, the managers black hair already curling adorably by the rain, he held the door open as Toby turned around to close the flowery umbrella. He was wearing a black knitted woolly hat, his caramel shaded hair peaking from under it reaching his shoulders. Though no one could see them reaching his shoulders, because of the large soft scarf around his neck.  
  
“Hello!” Toby smiled dazzlingly as he turned his smiling face towards the coffee shop and instantly there was a whole new vibration to the café, with golden tones of jazz playing. Morgan walked to high-five the manager, who had just let the door close, with a smug expression on her face: her place was covered and it was lacrosse time. Toby headed behind the beautifully decorated wooden counter, greeting a few customers on his way as he lifted his satchel over his head and entered the employees room from the door behind the counter. The energy was a lot higher, you could almost hear the sounds of hearts beating in the high walls of the room.  
  
“May I help you, or are you going to wait for my accomplice here to..?” Morgan asked sassily from the small crowd gathering around the counter, she was walking behind to wait for Toby as well. “We’ll wait.” a girl nodded rapidly in a nonchalant voice, others simply giving her a murderous glare: of course they wanted Toby to assist them.  
  
“Alright then.” Morgan replied with a joyous smile, all she could think about was lacrosse: the mud on her feet, the speed, the sweat, the shouting, the leaps, the desperation, the air of a battle and her hands meeting those of her teammates… You get the point. She looked like a madman standing there, her eyes on fire. That’s when Toby entered through the door next to her, wearing a light pink shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up, straight jeans and a coffee shade apron identical to hers. Morgan gasped laughing, shaking her head amusedly at the insane ruckus that followed and slipped through the door.  
  
The backroom was a comfortable room, with two large sofas spread around it and a narrow staircase leading straight to Leo’s apartment upstairs. Morgan went to the large, hand hewn closet, with the right side for her belongings and the other one for Toby’s, behind a screen with a Japanese ink painting of a flowering tree. She was almost shaking with excitement as she tried to unknot the apron with her overly excited hands opening both of the wooden doors. She grabbed her weather-proof outdoors coat of blue, and threw a muffler over her head after she had pulled her coat on. Morgan stopped for a moment to smile at her co-worker and friend’s fashionable array of clothing, the long grey jacket with two rows of black huge buttons and a woolly hat laying there at the top of his satchel drooping at the bottom of the closet. All along she could hear the sounds of loud giggling and chatter at the counter through the door, she was soon out of.  
  
“You were late.” she remarked vindictively placing an intentionally half-assed elbow punch into Toby’s side as he was crouched over to the professional coffee machine.  
  
“Ouch! You could have spilled it.” Toby gasped in dismay trying to keep the large stylish cup unshaken by her attack.  
  
“You would have done so even if I hadn’t helped you.” she smirked kidding around, but what she said next was not a play. “But you came. Thanks.” Morgan had already walked around the counter and crowd of people she saw as drooling baboons (according to their unexplainable behaviour) when she waved her hand shouting her goodbyes.  
  
“I’ll be off, bye!”  
  
“Break a leg!” Toby yelled while he was taking orders, preparing cappuccinos yet managing to give her a quick glance accompanied by a slightly hypocrite smile.  
  
“You know I hate that saying!” Morgan yelled out laughing a bit to herself as she walked out the door, turning her face into the rain and ran to the oblivion. An injury was one of her worst nightmares, as it would keep her from her away from her beloved lacrosse. Even that would be unbearable, so she could not even start to think of not being able to run around from sunrise to sundown, yelling and roaming the outdoors. Or not being able to ride a bike! Or climb a tree! Her thoughts slowly disappeared into the rain with her.  
  
“Was she just flirting with him?” a voice we know from before whispered amongst the crowd, that could hardly be confused with a queue anymore.  
  
“Shut up, Maggie. It’s almost our turn.” Gwennie whispered not stopping smiling for a moment, keeping her flirtatious eyes on the Prince smiling and talking inaudibly behind the counter.  
  
The girls standing in the crowd were good, ordinary girls – well no girl is ever really ordinary – that each had their own stories and reasons for standing there. Some came from good homes, some from homes drowning into liquor, abuse and neglect. Some had genuinely developed a crush for him, or even really fallen in love. Some – let’s call them infatuations – had started at first sight, some developed over the months of observing and encountering him, a few even were grateful towards him for his kind words and actions. Such as the girl with the gift bag. Others were there simply because he was popular and interesting, not to mention one of best looking teenagers nearby. He was both handsome and pretty nonetheless.  
  
A girl with black hair and glasses just came for the coffee and accompanied her friend with the gift bag and an easy-going lacrosse player, that had left before Toby arrived for practise, sorry that she had missed him. The girl had dark circles under her eyes, she had trouble sleeping – which might have had something to do with her caffeine addiction. She couldn’t have been happier when she found out that her friend had a crush on a waiter of café. As for the two girls nearing the register, Gwennie and Maggie… they saw themselves as stars too big for such a deadbeat town.  
  
Or… I think it would be more interesting if we put it like one of the Dragons (as the schools lacrosse team was known) put it at the end of the school year in the locker room, only we’ll clean it up to be a bit more civil:  
  
‘You know what I think? Those two ladies have nothing but a fine bottom and an exploded ego, that clearly has overgrown their frontiers. Those bitc… Divas think this deadbeat town is too small for them, unable to respect anything. And Toby, the new American, is just a way of escape their dull lives jerking off to teen magazines and touching posters of popstars they think they’re going to marry. They treat others like dirt and think that they’ll be all important, that Toby is going to fly them away into Hollywood. They can’t even sing for skit. But he is hot though.’  
  
It’s odd to admit that the locker-room speech, containing at least twenty different swear words, was actually quite accurate, though long forgotten by now. Their reaction to first hearing of and seeing Toby wasn’t exactly calm, but it was nothing compared to the terrorizing smirk seen on the black haired girls face as she heard she would be able to drink good-quality coffee every day – except on the days Toby was off work. But regardless of the disturbing image, Toby’s arrival had been a blessing, a breath of fresh air into the town for Maggie and Gwennie. They saw him as an idol, an American beauty they still thought could be related to Linda Williams despite his denial, they thought he was above all and that he would fly them over the Atlantic in a private jet straight to Hollywood. And it was finally their turn, not to walk the red carpet, but step up to the register.  
  
“Hello, what I might get you two pretty ladies?” Toby asked politely, his charming warm smile on his lips nearing perfection. He was leaning against the counter with the palms of his hands, he was tinkling with energy and excitement, even more briskly than usual. Leo, the shop owner and manager, was working behind him cheerfully doing one of his favourite things after climbing mountains and telling stories: making delicious coffee and he was wonderful at it. He let Toby take care of the customers, taking orders and delivering them, as he knew that most of them had come for him anyways and he trusted Toby, he was a nice bloke. Leo was quietly humming to himself with pleasure.  
  
“Oh, Toby.” Maggie laughed prudishly, whereas Gwennie started to whine dramatically “What took you so long, Toby? We’ve been waiting for you for so, so long.”. She was leaning closer to the counter trying to flirt with him before adding the closing line that she hoped to impress him with, to bring them closer: “Your sister told me you had already left for work.”  
  
“Well, there was an issue with the... Wait, my sister? You called her, didn’t you?” Toby questioned them with a dark realization slowly creeping into his mind.  
  
“Well, we were hoping to catch you. It’s a shame your cell phone broke down.” Maggie explained, trying to get next to Gwennie on the counter but she blocked her smiling at Toby and playing with her hair.  
  
“My phone was never broken.” Toby stated calmly.  
  
“What? Then why didn’t you…?” Gwennie asked puzzled by the revelation.  
  
“Because I didn’t want the likes of you to ever call me. And don’t call my place again. Ever.” Toby spoke out, the place turning colder than the tops of the Himalayas in the blink of an eye. Leo stopped his happy humming, his eyes going wide at the content of the conversation. He had never heard the kind boy he knew speak out like that before. Especially not to a customer.  
  
“But Toby…” the girls begged both surprised and scared by his hardened eyes, they were starting to get really scared. They hadn’t expected any of this to happen, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. What about Hollywood? And the private jet?  
  
“Get out. There’s nothing here for you.” he commanded in an undertone, not losing his casual smile for a moment, but make no mistake, the look in his blue eyes was not something that could be questioned. (Sarah was the last thing that was right with his life. Except the manager and Morgan.) Gwennie led her companion out from the line grabbing her shoulder poshly, huffing as she went, too afraid to give a cold offended glare to the Prince as they walked out. ‘Huh, what was that about?’, questions arose from the crowd of only a few final classmates and girls from other schools, baffled by the strange exit and only half heard conversation.  
  
“It’s alright, they just had somewhere to go.” Toby explained smiling in his usual way, making the tension that had been about to tower up collapse back down into an usual afternoon in a café. “Next order, please?” he laughed benignantly and the evening flew on. He was just sighing with relief as he had delivered the final flavoured coffee of the day to the final members of the girls who had come to see him flocking around the now unoccupied counter. Toby was admiring the unique patterns of the round silver tray on his hand, studying his reflection from it when he saw it.  
  
Two figures were standing next to the counter, Idris Llewelyn Yates, or Leo as we and his co-workers know him, leaning against the wall and a short girl with a school uniform and a gift bag in her hands standing in front of him. Toby froze on his feet. Leo was scratching his messy short, black hair wearing a wide mellow smile on his face. The girl with curled hair and pins in her hair offered out the small, cute gift bag pressing her face down embarrassed and the shop manager accepted it. Toby could no longer hear the soft music, or the words of the pair by the counter, or Mrs. Ling and Morgan Reese’s grandmother. It was almost as if he had been a soldier on the field and it was the moment after the explosion. The world looked bright, too sharp and painful, nothing was clear and his ears were ringing.  
  
Leo lifted his hand up to greet Toby cheerfully as he noticed him standing there grasping the tray against his chest, then waved goodbye to the flushed girl who was followed by the black haired girl with glasses and an obsession. She glided out after her friend, giving the shelves filled with jars of coffee powder a longing glance before she turned out from the door. Leo walked closer to him patting Toby’s back in a friendly manner, his lips forming words Toby couldn’t hear.  
  
“Huh?” Toby asked absently.  
  
“I said that it sure has been a long day. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a break, Toby?” Leo repeated himself, a bit worried over the well-being and coping of his young co-worker. He had been serving customers almost non-stop for three hours now, at a pace that was difficult to keep up even for Leo himself. No wonder he was exhausted, Leo thought emphatically, also wondering if he should give him a free weekend soon or shorten his shifts, school was surely also taking its toll. Toby was a great worker, even if he hadn’t pulled in three times more people the coffee shop usually had. He was kind and obliging, knew how to make the customers smile and enjoy their stay. It was impossible not to like him, that was one wonderful thing Toby had going for him. He was also honest.  
  
‘Please don’t say my name’, Toby asked in his mind hearing his voice.  
  
“No, I’m fine.” Toby replied with no delay walking past the tall man with an irresistible smile and a companionable air around him.  
  
“Are you sure?” Leo asked with concern in his voice, turning around to watch the boy walk away from him and sink his diligent hands into the dishes. ‘How long can he go on like this…? I wonder… Is there something wrong? I hope he will be alright, I’ll talk to him about it when I drive him home. It’s pouring down out there.’ Leo pondered by himself walking around the café deep in his thoughts, suddenly feeling dizzy and that is when the phone rang in the staff room, and he disappeared through the door to answer it.  
  
‘Huh, this amount of dishes is nothing compared to our cup castle at home’ Toby laughed trying to comfort himself in his thoughts ‘I wonder how Sarah’s doing?’. Sarah was soft asleep, murmuring about sugar plum fairies and pretty dancers in her sleep.  
  
The clock struck 24 minutes past nine, and only a few final customers were still chatting quietly to themselves by the tables decorated with dried flowers and herbs from the moors to match the cafés name and mood. The café was known as the Blue Mountain Café&Coffee shop, inspired by Leo’s years spent traveling around Europe and one story especially situated in the Pyrenees between Southern France and Spain. Toby was leaning wearily against the counter when a beautiful girl with olive brown skin and a thick ponytail walked past him smiling.  
  
“Thanks for the coffee.” she said quietly, scared to disrupt the mysterious air.  
  
“The pleasure was entirely mine.” Toby replied courteously with a crooked smile making the girls smile a little wider. “Have a safe trip home.”  
  
“Thank you. Goodnight.” the girl replied earnestly, she felt like she was walking on air as she pulled her hood over her head and opened the door pattering down the stairs overflowing with water. She stopped one more time to glance at Toby shyly and Toby lifted his hand smiling to greet her and she did the same before disappearing into the rain. Toby sighed and fell to sit behind the counter to embrace his knees. A comfortable, safe darkness surrounded him as he sat in the shadows. That is when finally the conversation passing between Morgan’s grandma and Mrs. (Mei) Ling caught his attention.  
  
“Mei… Do you remember when I mentioned those white flowers swarming in heaps around the house of that American woman living far out in the moors? You know something of them, don’t you?” Morgan’s grandmother spoke wistfully.  
  
“Oh Elin, I can’t trust anything to miss that nose of yours.” Mrs. Ling laughed into her cup of black coffee, obviously trying to dodge the question by letting it be, but she soon sighed obviously pressured by the grandmother with the name of Elin.  
  
“Oh, how could I forget. I’ve never seen such flowers with my own eyes, especially not so far away in the north. Well, that is before I stumbled upon that house.” Mei gasped with amazement, obviously enchanted by the topic. As was Elin, leaning forward in her chair.  
  
“The flowers weren’t there before.” Elin told.  
  
“They weren’t?” Mei conversed enthusiastically.  
  
“No, they only started to grow there after she had moved and settled into the cottage.”  
  
“That is interesting.” Mei nodded wonderingly “So the flowers came with the woman. She must have a wonderful lover.” Mei said to herself seriously, then giggling coyly.  
  
“Mei! That’s not any of our business, is it now!” Elin scolded the smirking woman, but was clearly not upset at all and as giddy herself. “What on earth do you mean?” she whispered curiously.  
  
“The white flowers around that Americans house…” Mei started mysteriously smiling to herself.  
  
“Hmmmm?” Elin demanded anxiously.  
  
“They’re flowers of good health and longevity. Flowers of fortune with no comparison. They’re good flowers. So she must have someone high in her favour.” Mei talked with an eager voice like a conspirator to another, and winked her eye flirtatiously reaching the final sentence.  
  
“Oh, Mei…” Elin laughed warmly, almost blushing at Meis words before she lifted her face inquisitively: “Is that really so?”  
  
“It is! They’re flowers that are known as flowers of eternal life and love, extremely rare. I wasn’t even sure if they existed, but the flowers match the description perfectly.” Mei boasted – or that it was it sounded to Toby, that was vexed by the strange conversation. Elin seemed to be deep in her thoughts as the silence went on.  
  
“There is one other strange thing…” Mei continued squinting her eyes thoughtfully, as did Elin “The flowers being so rare, one could never expect to see more than two or three in a lifetime, if any. But there must be hundreds, if not thousands of them blooming around her house every summer!” Elin nodded slowly before opening her mouth again.  
  
“But what’s this talk of a lover?” Elin tilted her head with a lively spark in her eyes.  
  
“Hahah, didn’t I tell you before?” Mei laughed happily before explaining “There were not only one kind of flower, but two kinds. The other one is the shape of a tiny star, I think it’s called Stephanotis in Latin.” “Do go on.” Elin urged her on, leaning even closer, not caring very much for the botany.  
  
“I will, I will… Elin, are you getting impatient by any chance? Well, it’s a promise flower. A marital flower to be precise, it’s usually worn by lovers, even in weddings.”  
  
“A marital flower?!” Elin gasped shocked “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” Elin muttered to herself.  
  
“Not only a boyfriend, a very infatuated fiancé by the looks of it!” Mei giggled loudly, slamming the table, she was overly-energized by the eight large cups of black coffee she had drank that evening, especially being a very lightly built woman according to her own words. They both were soon giggling like high school girls gossiping, as Toby rose from behind the counter in frustration. He couldn’t really yell at Morgan’s grandma, could he, even when he really felt like it. So he chose to clasp his fists tighter as he spoke out.  
  
“My sister is not dating anyone, nor is she engaged. She is not a witch, a hag or someone to be disrespected. She is a good, kind and honest woman above the manner she is spoken of with.”. Sarah’s little brothers voice mature and calm, though shades of edginess and venomousness developed as his words filled the awe-struck silence with power. He spoke as kindly as he could, but he was tired of the stupidity, narrow-mindedness and ignorance that spoke of her sister so freely, like they owned her or even knew one thing about her.  
  
Before the women could answer in their stunned poses, he announced: “It’s nearing ten O’clock, the shop is closing soon. Please, come again.” His tone was nearing satire as he went out to the staff room leaving the dumfounded gossipers to stare behind him in horror: he was here?! The shop door closed announced by the clinking bell and sounds of whispers passing between Grandma Elin and Mrs. Mei Ling. Toby returned to the dimly lit café and turned the sign to show that the shop was closed since there was only six minutes until the clock would strike ten O’clock. He lifted the cups of the enthusiastic conversationalists and botanists, that probably had had one drop of rom mixed in their coffee too many and dished them meticulously accompanied only by the soft jazz. ‘What was it people… why couldn’t they just let Sarah be?’ Toby wondered to himself hurt by the words that people tried to surround her with. He thought it was funny, the way people tried to put his only sister down and the way they tried to lift him above everyone else, waited for hours or more just to see his face. The other funny thing was, he wasn’t sure which one was worse – the fame or the infame.  
  
He dried the cups in his thoughts, he was no longer in a hurry with no end. Just him, the water and the twinkling, pretty coffee cups in his hands and the music he could finally stop to enjoy. The cups were unique each, they had to be washed by hand because they had been made or painted by hand by artists around the world. Each had its own peculiarities, own shapes, colours and patterns – just like the customers of this café. Leo loved handwork, he said that it has something more human about it and a rare beauty, which explained many choices which he had made with his life and the coffee shop.  
  
Eleven minutes past ten Toby finished drying the cups and after putting them back to their place to wait for the next encounter, someone would admire them, he headed to the back room. His day that had started at half seven – since he had overslept and really hoped Sarah hadn’t noticed as he was running down the road – and had his usual fast tempo school day filled with numerous events and people. After school he had shopped at the local supermarket hunting for good bargains and taken the buss to take him to the end of the road leading to the house. The wind was so strong it had almost stolen one of his lettuces, he had laughed at the idea of a wild lettuce roaming the moors when he was taking a shower. His shift was nearing its end and in the oven at home a delicious lamb roast with root vegetables was waiting for him so tenderly… Food… And rest. How unbelievably tempting it all sounded.  
  
He soon heard steps running down the stairs in the middle of his fantasies, thanking everyone and everything that it was Friday and a long weekend was ahead… He could sleep as long as he wanted. “Toby” Leo’s voice called strictly as his face finally appeared downstairs.  
  
“Yup?” Toby asked happily as he was pulling his coat on, his apron already folded in the closet.  
  
“Are you okay?” Leo asked walking in front of him with a small sweat on his forehead. Had he been exercising?  
  
“Yea, just a bit tired and really waiting forward to hitting the sack. Why?” Toby dreamed aloud, visions of soft pillows and mattresses and lamb roast in his mind.  
  
“The way you treated those girls before, you’ve never done something like that. And just now, with Mrs. Bennett and Ling. Is something wrong?” Leo asked with a serious expression on his face and sat to lean on the armrest of one of the sofas. He didn’t mean to threaten him or anything or the sort, he was really concerned for his friend but he had to remember his standing as a boss as well. Toby replied with no words, staring at his shoes.  
  
“Maybe you should take tomorrow off.” Leo concluded softly, his huge heart a bit moved by the boy’s distress. It must have been hard for Toby, he still remembered what it was like to be like a teenager himself – more clearly than he would have cared to remember.  
  
“They made Sarah cry.” Toby muttered quietly and when Leo made a noise to ask him about it he spoke louder. “Those girls… They made Sarah cry. They called my house before and all I know is that after that call Sarah was almost in pieces after that call. She doesn’t need any of that, she has had enough.”.  
  
Leo stared at him surprised by his speech, but his eyes were honest and earnest, the eyes of both of them. Leo knew Sarah, he had met her during the summer when coming to pick up Toby and they had had a cup of tea together sitting on the front step. She had just started to redo the paint of the house, her long dark hair had been in a knot and she had been wearing a scarf with Indian patterns on her head, along with patches of white paint on her face. She had been smiling and speaking of the moors and her life there, unlike in every way compared to the gossip people tried to create around her. She was a strong woman, and yet very few knew it or anything of her. It had been a warm afternoon, with soft wind and bright colours of green and blue along with the colours of the flowers waving on the moors. It had been her idea, the flowers. She thought that they would bring life and authenticity into the coffee shop that she had helped with over the summer.  
  
“Then they aren’t welcome here.” Leo spoke out calmly and solemnly, lifting his gaze up from the happy memories he was holding in the cradle of his palms, seeing Toby flinch his head up towards him in surprise. “Then those girls are not welcome here.” he repeated and made further conclusions aloud “I suppose that was what that was about with Mrs. Bennett and Ling earlier. What would you like me to do about it?”. Toby was stunned, he had never expected the reply he had got, even when he knew that Leo was truly a guy with the heart of a lion. Yet he felt happy, warm and grateful for all of it. Leo waited patiently.  
  
“You don’t have to do anything, I’m sure that they just had one cup of coffee too many. They just must have gotten a bit excited, they stayed here for nearly five hours, didn’t they? And Mrs. Bennett is a nice woman, she was really kind to Sarah when she came into town…” Toby went on trying to make up excuses for their behaviour.  
  
“Toby.” Leo called his name again, making Toby’s voice fade out quietly. “It’s okay. Thank you for being honest with me.” Leo smiled to him sincerely.  
  
“Thanks.” Toby managed to speak out, his voice almost breaking. He was dumfounded by his kindness and his ability to understand him. He smiled softly and Leo replied with a wide smile showing his teeth. “Wait here for a moment.” Leo asked getting up and straightening his shirt “I’ll go get my coat and then let’s get you home.”  
  
“You don’t really have to, I can walk… And I’m getting a bike soon.”  
  
“Are you kidding me? It’s pouring down out there!” Leo defended his right to drive him home adding one more sentence to his defence: “Besides, you’ll be like a walking lightning detector out there – a car is much safer.” Toby gave a laugh at the comment, remembering it spoken earlier with Sarah’s voice. Leo started to head towards the stairs briskly, but almost collapsed on the way. And he would have, if Toby hadn’t been there faster than the famous lightning.  
  
“Leo, are you okay?” Toby asked with anxiety in his voice, his arms around him to keep him standing.  
  
“Yeah yeah, I just felt a little dizzy. Thanks.” Leo answered faintly, trying to sound like he was in the shape of his life and he was trying to get back up. “I’m just going get my coat and keys.” he spoke out trying to sound manly.  
  
“Keys? You can’t drive like this. And don’t tell me you’re fine.” Toby commanded his voice sick with uneasiness and worry, and Leo snapped his mouth shut swallowing his false assurances. “And I, certainly can’t leave you like this.” Toby realized.  
  
“Come, put your hand around my shoulder and I’ll walk you upstairs. And no buts!” Toby guided Leo, who reluctantly but thankfully accepted his help.  
  
“I’ll put you to bed and sleep on the sofa just in case you need me. Or if you don’t feel like sleeping, we could watch a movie and you could rest on the sofa. Have you eaten well? Have you eaten anything? Gosh, you’re just like Sarah! We should check if you have a fever, oh you do, I’ll get you some coffee or tea and a blanket.”  
  
  
And with these caring words spoken by Toby we’ll conclude the episode of the Blue Mountain Café & Coffee shop on just another Friday evening and this chapter. Except… Is any Friday evening really just another one?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I will keep updating the story by fits and stars, but the prologue and the first six chapters might be added once a day. To get you started on the story. Hopefully you will bear with me on this venture back to the Labyrinth and perhaps even enjoy it?
> 
> And just for the record, I do not own any the characters portrayed in the movie Labyrinth.
> 
> P.S. I'm finding it all a struggle with the HTML-editor and the automated settings of this site. But I won't go down without a proper fight.
> 
> Pssst, there will be a bonus chapter/story after chapter six.


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